


a complainy popstar

by snsk



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Domesticity, Established Relationship, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Metaphors, Metaphors Everywhere, boys in loooooove, broody harry, harry really wants a baby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-04
Updated: 2013-12-04
Packaged: 2018-01-03 11:14:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1069805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snsk/pseuds/snsk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry wants a baby. He settles for a pet rat. Louis sort of hates the pet rat very much a lot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a complainy popstar

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [a complainy popstar](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4492539) by [AnitaBlake](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnitaBlake/pseuds/AnitaBlake)



> much lov to miya

On Thursday, Harry found a rat on the streets of London.

It wasn’t exactly on the _streets_ , as he rushed to explain to Louis later. It was in a pet store, all tucked away behind Franco’s, and I was passing by and he was in a cage with all these other white rats, and he looked big and grey and so out of place, and they weren’t even _talking_ to him, Louis.

“Maybe there was a reason for that,” Louis said, pressing himself even further back into the kitchen counter. “Get it _away_ ,” he said, as Harry advanced upon him with the huge grey _thing_ in his hands. “Maybe it was an asshole to them, so they just gave up on talking to it. Maybe you brought home a big jerk.”

“Hammy’s not a jerk,” Harry said, bringing the thing up to eye level and smiling at it lovingly. “Don’t be silly, Louis.”

“Hammy,” Louis repeated. “ _Hammy_.”

“Hammy!” Harry announced. “Look, he knows his name,” he said excitedly, as the rat perked up and sort of sniffed at Harry’s face.

“Hello, Hammy,” Harry cooed. “Hel- _lo_ there, darling.”

“It’s going to bite your face off,” Louis said. “I’m not paying for facial reconstruction, either.”

“Hammy would never hurt anyone,” Harry said indignantly. “Stop being such a grouch, Lou, it’s almost Christmas. Can I keep him?”

He looked up at Louis then, with big hopeful eyes. He was in their kitchen, and he was lit up by the late morning sun from the window, and he was wearing the jumper that Louis liked to use best when he wasn’t around, and Louis had refused him -- _was_ refusing him -- so much else, already.

“Yeah, Harry,” Louis said, sighing. “Yeah, you can keep it.”

Harry let out a tiny joyful squeal, and turned the rat so it faced Louis. “Say thank you to Papa Louis!” he told it firmly.

Hammy stared at Louis with his black beady eyes. He hated Louis, that much was clear. The feeling was extremely mutual.

 

 

It wasn’t that Louis had anything in particular against rodents. He wasn’t scared of them, or anything. He quite liked rats as a species. He would’ve quite liked any other rat Harry had brought home, once he’d gotten over the initial shock and ascertained it was free from any vermin diseases.

 It was just fucking _Hammy_ , you know.

Hammy quite loathed Louis. The first time Harry had made Louis hold him, the morning after he’d brought him home, ignoring Louis’ protests of “Harry, c’mon,” and “he doesn’t need to know his Papa Louis, what the fuck’re you _talking_ about,” Hammy had wriggled so much as Harry’d handed him over that he’d fallen on the floor three seconds after he’d been cupped in Louis hands. He’d then scampered right back to Harry’s shoe, glaring at Louis balefully all the while.

“He’s scared,” Harry had said tenderly, gathering Hammy up again and pressing him against his chest. “Don’t worry, Lou, it’ll take time.”

“He isn’t scared,” Louis had scoffed. “He hates me.”

“He doesn’t hate you!” Harry had said, scandalised. “Who could hate you?”

Louis had rolled his eyes and gotten up, but as he passed he’d had to kiss the top of Harry’s head for his dumb idealism, still going strong after three years, that just because he loved Louis, everyone in the seven kingdoms automatically did, too.

Hammy’s problem was definitely with Louis, anyway, because he took to the rest like secondary owners just as soon as he’d met them, rubbing his nose against Niall’s palm affectionately and letting himself be petted by Zayn and running cheerfully on the wheel thingy that Liam bought him when Liam was around, never mind that he totally ignored it when Liam wasn’t there. Suck up.

Harry was totally falling for the innocent-domesticated-animal routine, too. Louis would come back from training, or the shops, or whatever, and Harry would just be _sat_ on the sofa, singing bloody nursery rhymes to the rat, or watching reruns of The Walking Dead and covering its eyes at the killing scenes, or leaning over it and brushing its fur with the little Barbie brush he’d made Louis get at Hasbro’s _specially_ for that purpose.

Louis was starting to think his boyfriend had a Problem.

He was starting to think he himself had a Problem too, because once you set aside the whole hating Hammy thing, Louis’ heart sort of clenched up every time he walked through the door and Harry was on the carpet doing things like playing at fucking dollhouses with Hammy, who tolerated the game insofar that he let himself be squeezed into the bedroom without scampering about or sinking his teeth into Harry’s ridiculous flesh.

It sort of clenched up really painfully, actually, because Harry was – he was so _good_ at this, taking care of tiny little beings, and Louis wanted so much to give him all the things he couldn’t, right now. He was so good at it, and he was being so good at waiting for it, and Louis kind of hated the world and himself for not being able to give Harry Styles everything he wanted.

He would, in time. It was just.

He managed to swallow it down, most times, and focus on loathing Hammy, who was _clearly_ out to get him, no matter that Harry was blind to flaws as far as loved ones were concerned, and blind to the fact that Louis had to sleep with one eye open, these days, after that incident where his socks smelled like fucking rat piss but Harry had sworn Hammy had been in his cage all night.

 

 

During the weekend, they went to the vet. The doctor made sure Hammy wasn’t carrying some horrible life-threatening disease and gave him a kind of shot just to make sure. Since he couldn’t hold Hammy’s hand, Harry gripped Louis’, almost managing to sprain his little finger.

“It’s going to be okay, Hammy!” he called out anxiously.

Hammy, for his part, looked all about the office inquisitively, like he wasn’t even feeling the needle.

They went to a pet store later, and Harry said, “What d’you have for rats,” and the manager led them to a section of the shop, where Harry’s eyes widened, and Louis started, “No—”

“Hammy deserves the best,” Harry insisted. “D’you want him to live in a _box_ , Louis?”

Honestly, Louis wanted him back on the streets, but he also wanted to be having sex somewhere in the next week, so he held his tongue while the manager said, “We happen to have the very best. Clothes, agility equipment, hammocks, rattie caddies, books and more.”

“What’s a rattie caddy?” Harry said excitedly. Louis glared at Mr Clothes agility equipment hammocks rattie caddies books and more. All he fucking had to do was say No, sorry, we don’t serve mutant-sized feral rodents found on the streets.

They left an hour later laden with half the items in the store. Also a couple of goldfish. Louis didn’t even _know_ anymore. He'd lost control a long time ago.

 

 

Four days after Hammy had usurped himself into their home, Harry had to go out to attend some gala-like event. He couldn’t bring Louis as his date, obviously, so Louis promised to stay home and look after Hammy, although he’d rather strangle the creature with his pissed-upon sock.

Harry got dressed up all fancy, with a nice-ass suit and his hair all swept to the side tonight and a red handkerchief that Louis tucked into his right jacket pocket before he left.

“I’ll let you blindfold me with it after,” he promised, because Harry still looked pretty upset about leaving Louis and Hammy tonight. Louis couldn’t tell whether it was more because he’d miss Louis or he was worried that Louis would slip rat poison into Hammy’s food, which, heh. Great irony.

Harry’s face brightened up quite a lot. He kissed Louis, slow and filthy, and Louis was debating over whether to draw the ‘kerchief out and tie him up right _then_ , but Harry slipped under and away, laughing, from where Louis had him caged against the wall with his arms.

“Paul’s waiting,” he said, grinning. “I’ll see you later,” and he nuzzled his face into Louis’ shoulder as he hugged him goodbye.

“I’ll just get myself off without you, then,” Louis said, completely throwaway.

“You won’t,” Harry told him, “you’ll wait for me, won’t you, baby?” He put his thumb not so gently on Louis’ pulse point, nipped at his earlobe. His breath was hot against the shell of Louis’ ear.

“Maybe,” Louis said, voice not breaking, definitely.

“Mmm,” Harry said, “I’m going to need—” A car horn sounded outside. Louis scowled in its direction.

“Take care of Hammy,” Harry said, grinning as he picked up his keys and phone.

“If you mean don’t kill him, yeah, okay,” Louis said, leaning back against the doorframe.

“Be nice,” Harry said. “And I’ll be nice to you tonight.”

“You’re the most cliché piece of fuck to ever have existed,” Louis told him, but he knew his face was doing that thing where it smiled ridiculously and besottedly at Harry without his permission, again, and tilted itself up for a kiss.

 

 

Louis closed the door behind Harry and stared at the rat.

Hammy was on the sofa cushions, licking a paw, and generally looking like he _owned_ the place.

“Shall we get it all out in the open then?” asked Louis, settling in beside him and turning off Homeland. It was a rerun, so.

Hammy very deliberately turned away from Louis, starting on another paw.

“Like, what is your _problem_ with me?” Louis asked. “I’ve never pissed in _your_ cage, man.”

The line of Hammy’s furry grey back was unyielding.

“Is it because you’re jealous?’ Cause Harry’s your owner? Is it some territorial thing? ‘Cause, mate, I had him _first_.”

Louis sort of realised that arguing with a rodent over his boyfriend was kind of ridiculous, but he also couldn’t push away the niggling sliver of doubt that maybe, _maybe_ his own kid would hate him too, because he just couldn’t, you know, take care of it like Harry could. Or maybe he would hate it, like he just couldn’t seem to like Hammy. And yeah, he knew his track record with babies and small children might disprove that entirely, and the whole Hammy and him deal was _probably_ not going to happen with a child, but this was bugging him.

What _ever_. Famous people were quirky. Whatever.

“Is it because he tells you stories about us?” Louis asked. Harry would never deliberately blame it on Louis, but: “Because those stories, you haven’t heard my side of them. Harry’s all, fuck it, Louis, let’s just, who cares, go out and tell the world and fuck the consequences, and he’s amazing like that, he is, but _you_ aren’t the one who saw him break down in the early days when he was just fucking overwhelmed by the whole scope of it.”

Louis was running his mouth of at a rat. It was amazing how far he’d come in life. He couldn’t quite _stop_.

“I’m the one who knows he still can’t deal with it some days and he calls me and pretends he’s okay but he’s running off to some isolated beach or whatever and I’m the one who worries and worries but can’t do anything because that’s his time, he deserves that at least, I can’t, y’know.”

Hammy didn’t turn to face Louis but he’d stopped licking his paws, which might’ve meant anything.

“Can you imagine, though. The hate he would get. How he wants to do it all with this band but he also wants to come out with me and tell the world, and he says we can do both, but he doesn’t seem to get that if we do the other we’ll have lost every chance of doing the first one and I don’t want to be the reason he regrets it later, ‘cause have you seen him on stage? He’s a right superstar. He could have the world if he wanted. And we might be able to do both but we probably won’t because it’s still  a terrible kind of world and he’s still so young and he deserves everything and he wants a baby and isn’t he the fucking worst, I love him, he’s the worst. I want a baby with him.”

Louis was finding this almost therapeutic, was the thing. Yeah, he was crying a bit. It was all very cleansing. He didn’t really talk about all of this, at all.

Then he felt a sort of nudging at his pants, and Hammy was looking up at him. “I still hate you,” Louis told him, but he reached down to pet him a bit. He swiped at his eyes with the other hand.

“We need to wait, you know,” he said. “It’s getting harder to, but – yeah. All those reasons. Judge me for them, but. Yeah.”

Hammy didn’t say anything. Louis continued petting him until he started to feel quite a bit better, which was when he bit at Louis’ forefinger to get him to stop and scuttled over to the remote to indicate he wanted tv.

“You still hate me too, got it,” said Louis, sort of grinning.

 

 

When Harry got back they were watching The Walking Dead.

“Are you covering his eyes at the violence?” Harry asked concernedly.

“Sure,” Louis said. “He’s not seen a single drop of blood tonight.”

“Liar,” Harry said, but he leaned over the back of the sofa to kiss Louis long and indulgently. He smelled of expensive perfume and the back seat of limos, but he tasted like Louis’ drink, the pineapple one which he didn’t really like but Louis knew he drank on the nights Louis wasn’t with him. “Hello, baby,” he said to Hammy, who snuffled excitedly at his fingers, the most animated he’d been all night.

“I get liar, he gets baby,” Louis said. “Amazing.”

Harry giggled. “How the tables have turned.”

“Watch it,” said Louis. “He’s not the one tying you up tonight.”

Harry covered Hammy’s tiny ears. “Not in front of him,” he gasped.

“He’s, like, twenty-nine in rat years,” said Louis. “He can stomach a bit of dirty talk.”

“He’s a _baby_ ,” Harry said fondly, kissing Hammy’s head.

“I’ll give you _baby_ ,” Louis said, preparing for a vicious tickle attack, because three years had passed and they were still sixteen and nineteen, really. But Harry full-on paused and looked up, and what Louis saw in his expression made his heart clench even fiercer than it’d ever done before.

“Yeah,” Louis said, quietly, when Harry didn’t say anything for a while, just stared at Louis. He didn’t need to talk, though, because it was all so, so easy for Louis to read, easier than it’d been in years. “Yeah, Harry, I’ll give you a baby.”

**Author's Note:**

> i dont know nuts about pet rats nor do i pretend to


End file.
